


by the light of the bell tower

by MatildaSwan



Category: Holby City
Genre: Bernie Wolfe Lives, F/F, canon compliant alex/bernie, cw list inside, reunion in a cellar au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23268880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: There’s a cellar, in Alex Dawson’s house.It’s filled with bits and bobs and lots of boxes. And one Bernie Wolfe, very much alive and as well as can be expected, given she's chained to a wall.Serena knows this, because she’s chained to the wall, too.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 11
Kudos: 87





	by the light of the bell tower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anacel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anacel/gifts).



> warning: lesbians were harmed in the making of this fic. but when there's three queer women in a story written by a lesbian, one of them gets to be a lil evil. as a treat. catch me making fun of canon for the foreseeable.
> 
> CW: abduction, PTS, normalisation of trauma conditions, references to potential hallucinations, rape mention, self harm mention, anxiety symptoms, fight scene, broken bones, other injuries of varying severities 
> 
> The list is long as I tried to cover my bases but I may have missed smaller elements of what is essentially just a lovers reunion fic but in traumatic circumstances. Shall update if needed. 
> 
> And many thanks to Jess for betaing <3

There’s a cellar, in Alex Dawson’s house. A dark, slightly dilapidated basement in the family home she inherited three years ago.

It’s filled with bits and bobs and boxes, the usual detritus one expects of the disused dumping ground all houses have. 

And chained to the wall, is one Bernie Wolfe: former co-lead, former partner, current love of Serena Campbell’s life. Considered Missing in Action since July, 2019, declared dead come October 1st. 

Serena’s birthday, of all days. 

Only she’s not dead. She’s right here. Alive and, all things considered, reasonably well. Breathing at least, definitely breathing.

Peacefully, in her sleep, chest rising and falling, shadows from the overhead light skirting over her cheekbones, sharper than ever. 

Serena knows this, because she’s chained to the wall, too.

*

She never solidified her post-employment plans. Got as far as packing up the living room, preparing to offer Jason and Greta the house while she travelled, and no further.

Alex saw to that. 

She was surprised to see the woman away from the ward. Barely healed from compartment syndrome and brain trauma and there she was, traipsing around the park near Serena’s house, the one she takes Gwen to on their afternoons together. The one Serena took to walking laps around when her feet itch and her gut churns and she needs to get out of the house. 

Today was one of those days, and there she was. In Serena’s park, sitting on a shady bench. 

An odd occurrence, certainly. But a coincidence, nothing more. 

If only she knew. 

She hadn’t, at the time. Simply offered a nod of recognition from a safe distance, before turning on her heel and walking away. 

Perhaps if she’d been kinder...

Not that it bears thinking about, now. Now she’s been locked in a dungeon by the woman the love of her life moved on to be with, along _with_ said love of her life. 

It doesn’t really matter now, because she’s here. 

Here, with Bernie. Who is very much alive. 

*

She doesn’t know how long she lets Bernie sleep. How long she just gazes, softly, at that lovely face while she gets used to the chains chafing at her wrist.

Could be an hour, could be several. It’s not like she’s wearing a watch. 

But, eventually, Bernie begins to stir. Slowly, at first, then all at once. 

Her nostrils flare and her eyes fly open, bright and wide and frantic, before dulling as the nightmare sinks in again. Her brow creases as she looks over at Serena, leaning against the brickwork.

She scowls. 

‘Oh, you’re here again.’ She sniffs, looks at the ground with disdain. 

Serena frowns. It’s not quite the welcoming committee she expected. 

‘Well hello to you too,’ she grumbles. _Some greeting that is_. 

Bernie scoffs. ‘Oh it’s the stroppy version this time. Well, it’s been a while since you visited. I guess it’s a nice change.’ 

‘I’ve been here before?’

‘Course you have, you’re always here.’ Her voice drops, low and soft, ‘You’re always here with me.’

‘Oh, _Bernie_ ,’ Serena breathes, her heart breaking. 

She lapses into silence, swallowing the lump in her throat, planning how to handle this as delicately as possible.

Eventually, she shuffles closer, chains clinking as she draws near, till her knees are a few inches from Bernie’s hand. 

She keeps that distance, as Bernie eyes her warily. 

‘Bernie?’ she says softly, barely a whisper in the dim.

‘What.’

‘It’s real, this time. I’m really here.’

‘You’ve said that before.’ Pain flashes through her eyes; she looks away again. ‘And it’s never true.’

Serena’s heart shatters. _How long has she been down here?_

She breathes deep and reaches out. Her fingertips brush the back of Bernie’s hand. 

Bernie’s eyes go wide, white and frightened. She pushes up into the fingertips, before turning her hand over, stretching her digits out wide. Presses up into Serena’s palm, slowly slotting their fingers together and holding tight.

She looks up, eyes burning with hope. 

‘You’ve never done that before.’

Serena smiles, her back releasing as she shuffles closer. ‘What about this?’ she asks, leaning forward to press a light kiss to Bernie’s lips. 

Bernie freezes for a moment, rigid and stiff, then her whole body sags. She wraps her arms around Serena’s shoulders, pulls her close, and sinks into the kiss. 

‘Serena,’ she breathes, finally pulling away for air. ‘It’s you, it’s really you.’

She says it, over and over, peppering Serena’s face with kisses as she cries, before pulling her into another bone crushing hug and sobbing into her shoulder.

Serena runs a hand over her back, shushing her gently.

Then, Bernie tenses. Looks up, tear tracks down her cheeks. 

‘She got you too,’ she says gravely.

‘She did, yes,’ Serena agrees glumly. Looks around at the dingy little cellar, at Bernie chained to the wall. ‘But she’s not keeping me,’ she promises, all spine and steel. ‘She’s not keeping either of us.’

*

But first, they need a plan. 

‘Any ideas?’ she asks, because Bernie’s been here longer, and surely she would have tried to break out before now. 

No point wasting time on repeating ideas doomed to fail. 

‘Hm?’

‘For getting out of here.’

‘Oh, no. Nothing helpful, anyway.’ Bernie jangles her wrists. ‘These need to come off first.’

‘Right,’ Serena hums, assessing, her attention now on the chains that bind them here, the aging, ornate cuffs. 

‘I tossed up dislocating some fingers or just breaking my hand for a while, but they’re too tight, wouldn’t have helped,’ Bernie mutters, voice calm. Yet more proof the time down here has taken its toll. ‘Then I’d have been trapped down here with a shattered hand and no hope of healing.’ 

Serena’s stomach rolls at the thought.

‘It’s a good thing I know how to pick locks then, isn’t it,’ she says brightly, desperate for levity. 

She drops her hands back into her lap and looks over at Bernie; can’t help smiling at the surprised adoration she finds in her eyes.

‘Jason had an escapology phase a while back,’ she explains. ‘I picked up some tips along the way. It might take a while and I’ll need some tools—there’s bound to be something in these boxes that’ll do—but I’m sure I can manage it eventually.’

‘Well then,’ Bernie says with the warm delight of a productive challenge, a smile slowly lighting up her face. ‘What are we waiting for?’ 

*

Serena’s broken four paperclips by the time Alex comes down with dinner. 

They quickly sweep the evidence of their escape-to-be under the mattress, light streaming down the stairs as slightly uneven footsteps draw close.

Alex levels out with the cellar floor and the bulb overhead flickers. Serena prays it doesn’t go out: being down here in the dark doesn’t bear thinking about. 

‘Hello, my lovebirds!’ she says cheerly, and if Serena didn’t know the woman was unstable before, she certainly does now. 

‘Hello, Alex,’ Bernie says calmly, her face passive as Alex places the tray of food in the middle of the floor. 

_She’s not scared,_ Serena realises. _She’s not scared of the woman who kept her locked down here all these months. Who_ kidnapped _me_!

It’s both reassuring and a little terrifying. 

Bernie elbows her. Jerks her head encouragingly. 

‘Oh, I see. Um. Hello Alex,’ she says. Then, because she can’t help herself: ‘Nice place you have here.’

‘Isn’t it!’ Alex replies brightly. ‘I’m glad you like it,’ she adds, and it almost passes for sane. ‘After all, it’s your new home.’

Serena shudders.

‘I brought you curry,’ Alex adds, needlessly, gesturing to the tray by her feet. 

Bernie’s eyes light up like the megear meal for two is a banquet spread out before her. But she doesn’t move. 

‘Alex, please,’ she begs instead. ‘You’re sick. You know that. You keep hurting yourself just to see Serena.’

‘She does?’ 

Bernie nods, purses lips. ‘The car accident was on purpose, too.’ 

‘Oh, Alex,’ Serena breathes. She’s still a doctor, after all.

‘You shouldn’t do that, Alex,’ Bernie says, almost kindly. ‘It’s not healthy.’ 

If Serena didn’t know any better, she’d think Bernie actually cared. _They were in love, once_ , she thinks. Maybe she does, just a little. 

‘Not this again,’ Alex sighs, then looks at Serena, shaking her head. ‘She thinks I have Munchausen,’ she scoffs, as if it’s ridiculous. ‘Never had you pegged for a psychiatrist, Bern. Thought you didn’t believe in all that therapy nonsense, that you could manage your problems on your own.’

She laughs, a deep, grating rasp from the back of her throat. 

The hairs on Serena’s neck prickle.

‘It’s a shame, really,’ Alex muses, in a sick parody of concern, kneeling beside Bernie to bring their eyes level. ‘If you’d gotten help before we reconnected, maybe you’d have treated me better. Made more of an effort.’

Bernie recoils, keeps her eyes on the floor. Serena sees them burn, not with shame or indignation, but fury. Knows the last drop of love between them dried up long ago. 

Knows Bernie’s calm voice is born of survival, not care. 

‘I’m sorry, Alex, you know I am,’ she says, looking up without hesitation but managing to seem suitably ashamed. ‘I wasn’t in a fit state to be in a relationship of any kind. I’m sorry you feel I used you.’

‘Oh, it’s alright, Bern,’ she reassures, reaching out to stroke her face. Serena sees the ripple run over Bernie’s skin, but she doesn’t flinch. ‘Besides, if you hadn’t been so hung up on Serena, I’d have never realised how wonderful she is. I wouldn’t have known how much I want her.’

Serena’s eyes go wide. 

‘I’m so glad you’re back together again. It’s good to have the complete set,’ she says, slowly rising to her full height, looming over them. ‘Enjoy your dinner date,’ she calls over her shoulder as she plods up the stairs. 

*

Alex’s words ring in Serena’s ears, as she fiddles with the lock around her left wrist while Bernie eats.

She’s terrified to ask, but she has to know. 

‘Bernie,’ she says tentatively, pausing her attempts, once Bernie has licked the plate clean. 

‘Serena?’ 

There’s a streak of sauce on her cheek; Serena reaches out, thumbs it clean. Bernie doesn’t shrink from physical contact, and she hopes that’s a good sign. 

‘Um, while you’ve been down here. Has Alex...has she, um, has she _forced_ you. At all?’

‘What? Oh, god no, nothing like that.’ Bernie throws the plate on the tray with disinterest. ‘We stopped having sex ages before all this happened.’ She looks around, sniffs with disdain. ‘This place isn’t exactly conducive to amorous activities, anyway.’

Serena grimaces. ‘You have a point.’

‘Though now you’re here I might change my mind,’ she flirts, angling her head for a kiss. 

‘Oh, could you now?’ Serena chuckles, pretending to consider it. ‘I suppose some snogging would brighten the place up.’

‘Some heavy petting to distract from the lack of wallpaper?’

Serena laughs, throaty and rich; it rolls through her whole body, relaxing her despite the insanity surrounding her. She can’t resist brushing a light kiss to Bernie’s lips before drawing back.

‘When we get out of here,’ she promises, leaning against the wall to look at her lovingly.

Bernie reaches out, strokes down Serena’s cheek, over her jaw, the shell of her ear. ‘I look forward to it.’

Serena shivers as fingertips run through her hair. Then sighs heavily, as reality sets back in.

‘So what does she want with us, then?’

‘She wants to know you,’ Bernie says simply. 

‘Know me?’

Bernie nods. 

‘Couldn’t she just ask me out for drinks like a normal person? Though,’ she adds thoughtfully, ‘I suppose she did try that.’

‘She asked you out, did she?’ 

Serena rolls her eyes. ‘I turned her down, obviously.’ She starts fiddling with the lock again, wiggling a few clips. ‘I thought she wanted someone to talk to, about you. But I didn’t want to share, with anyone. Especially not her, when you moved on to be with her. You were engaged, for christ sake!’ she hisses, dropping her hands into her lap. ‘Wait, were you?’

Bernie shakes her head, lips in a thin line. 

‘Oh, god, it was all lies, wasn’t it?’ Serena tips her head back against the wall, breathing deeply. ‘That’s going to take some getting used to.’ Turns her attention back to the locks for a few minutes. Finally asks, ‘So, where do I fit in to all of this. 

‘You’re the love of my life.’

Her body thrums from top to tail, the way she always has from Bernie’s adoration. 

It’s been so long.

But it’s tainted, somewhat, by where they are. So she pushes down the want threatening to spill out; reminds herself to ask Bernie to say that again, when they’ve gotten out of here. Somewhere she can reply without ruining those words.

Instead, she reaches over, holds Bernie’s hand. 

She smiles back, like she understands. 

‘And?’

‘She knows you’re the love of my life and she wants to know how you did that. Who you are, how you can be that person. To me.’ She breathes deep, then exhales in a rush, ‘I honestly can’t tell if she wants to be you or be in you, but, you know. Yeah.’

‘You’re ex imprisoned you in a dungeon to get to know me?’ 

‘Apparently,’ Bernie replies with a bit of a shrug. 

‘I’d be flattered if it weren’t so batshit insane,’ Serena says flatly. Reaches over, holds her hand. ‘Bernie, I’m so sorry. We are getting you so much therapy when we get out of here.’

‘Good. That’s good,’ Bernie says, nodding gently. Finally admits, ‘I think it’s past time.’

The worry lines around Serena’s eyes soften. 

‘And we are. Going to get out of here, I mean. I didn’t find you again just to lose you.’ She squeezes her hand. ‘You mark my words, Bernie Wolfe. We’re going to get out of here.’

‘Or die trying?’

No,’ she says, so sharp it slices the air in two. ‘Neither of us are dying.’ Then adds lightly, almost thoughtfully. ‘Haven't decided about Alex yet. If needs must, I suppose.’ 

Bernie barks, cracking the tension of the cellar. 

‘But we _are_ getting out of this alive.’ She brushes a digit against Bernie’s little finger; tangling their _quintus manus_ together. Bernie holds tight as another pin goes into the lock. A click echoes around the stonework; the chain falling, useless, to the floor. ‘I promise. ‘

*

She wishes she’d practiced more with her non dominant hand when the stakes weren’t so dire. Because the second lock is slow going, her left hand sluggish, slow and clumsy. 

Bernie catnaps on a full stomach, deep breathing filling the room, and panic beings to gnaw at Serena’s gut.

She knows they have time before Alex’s next appearance, if she keeps to her usual routine, assuming she doesn’t come down to bother them after their supposed dinner date. 

But what if it’s not enough?

She keeps moving through the panic, the white heat fizzing in her blood. The ringing louder than Bernie’s snores. Her ribs shrink around her lungs, squeezing her chest. 

What if she fails?

She inhales, a deep shuddering breath, her fingers trembling and bile in her throat.

She can’t afford to fail. She _can’t_.

Then a hand appears on her knee, solid and warm. She jerks her chin up, looks right into Bernie’s dark eyes. Feels her shoulders unlock, her throat release, her lungs expand. 

She can do this, with Bernie beside her. They can do anything together, have proven it time and time again.

She refuses to fail. 

Serena slides the final clip in and up and the mechanism releases, leaving her wrist chaffed, but free. 

‘Finally,’ she breathes out, massaging sore tendons. ‘One pair left,’ she says, taking a deep breath and reaching out. 

Bernie reaches back, her wrist warm in Serena’s hand, pliant to the touch. 

She can see the welts beneath the ornate metal cuff and her heart clenches; she pushes it to the side, focuses on the task in her hand. Tries not to be distracted by Bernie drawing nearer still, pressing them together: knee to hip to waist.

She feels Bernie’s nose in her hair, giggles when she inhales against her scalp. 

‘You know, I missed this.’

‘Being trapped in a dungeon by a delusional ex lover?’ Serena jokes, bumping Bernie’s shoulder, a trait she picked up from her long ago. ‘Never took you for the type.’

‘No,’ Bernie says with a small shake of her head, face calm and sincere. ‘Being close to you. Having you near.’

Serena’s heart trips over the vulnerability in Bernie’s eyes. 

Another promise falls from her lips, easy as breathing, ‘I’ll never be gone again.’ 

Bernie smiles sweetly, content to watch Serena work in silence, finally picking up some speed.

The lock clicks, eventually, and she finally lets herself look at the welt beneath, the garish red against Bernie’s pale skin, raised and angry. She bends down to kiss the inside of Bernie’s wrist, lightly and full of love.

Bernie whimpers. 

Serena looks up. Sees the tears in her eyes, wide and wanting, no trace of pain. Lowers her head, does it again, just to watch Bernie sigh, her eyelids fluttering. 

Bernie reaches down, cradles Serena’s cheek in the palm of her hand, craning her neck till their mouths meet and they sink into the kiss. 

They draw apart, some time later, breathless and dizzy. Lets their foreheads rest together, drinking each other in with slightly blurry eyes, basking in a moment they’ve more than earned. 

Then, Serena gets back to work. 

*

Serena wakes with flickers of Bernie in her arms in their four poster bed behind her eyelids and tendrils of cornsilk in her nose.

‘Serena, get up. _Serena_!’

 _It isn’t a dream_ , she thinks hysterically, _she’s alive_. But something’s not right. The bed is cold and hard, and Bernie’s panicking. 

‘What?’ she asks, bleary-eyed and blinking.

‘Alex is in the kitchen, she’ll be here in a minute.’ Chains jangle as she buffets Serena’s harder. ‘Hurry!’ 

Serena’s eyes fly open and a numb sort of clarity seeps through her.

She’s positive they don’t have time to make it look like they’re wearing their chains without actually reattaching them—like hell she’s losing the progress they’ve made—so it’s now or never. 

She fumbles with the lock still encasing Bernie’s wrist, assessing where she was before she drifted off against a pillow of golden curls, praying she’s only a crank away from unpicking it. 

She isn’t. 

She hears the shuffling this time, on the floor above. Close to the door at the top of the stairs.

‘We don’t have time,’ she says helplessly, throat closing over. 

‘Go!’ Bernie urges, pushing her away. ‘Get out, please. I’ll be fine.’

‘No you won’t,’ Serena hisses back, clinging to Bernie’s hand against her collarbone. ‘I’m not leaving you.’

Hinges creak. Light spills into the cellar. Footsteps on the stairs. 

‘Hope I’m not interrupting anything,’ Alex sings joyfully, ‘It’s been so long since you’ve seen each other, I should have asked if you wanted the lights ou—’

Takes in the tableaux before her: Serena, on her knees before Bernie with half a dozen pins shoved in the cuff lock, her own chains laying, useless, on the floor. 

‘No!’ she shrieks, throwing the tray as she leaps down the stairs. She lands on the floor, heavy footed, and bears down on them. 

Serena turns on her toes and tackles Alex to the ground, knocking the wind from both their lungs. 

She’s never done so much as a self defence class in her life. But fighting for your life, for _someone_ else’s life, that opens up a world of strength Serena never knew she had. 

She feels the jolt of muscle against bone as she swings her arm. Hears the crack of cartilage, lets the sick satisfaction keep her moving. Her fists make contact a few more times before lethargy seeps into her muscles and she slows, sluggish, unused to the toll adrenaline takes on the body without mental stimulus.

But Alex served in the armed forces for a decade. For all she’s injured, still recovering, it’s her bread and butter, to think on her feet. 

So she uses them to pry Serena off, to kick her to the ground a few feet away, scrambling to stand as quickly as she can. 

Serena can just make out Bernie screaming over the fuzz in her ears as she struggles onto her elbows, Alex’s feet in her eye line.

 _If they keep up this racket someone will call the police, surely?_ she wonders, realising she doesn’t actually know if Alex has neighbours as she gets kicked in the gut.

She curls herself into a ball, a deadweight clinging to Alex’s ankle, trying desperately to think over Bernie still screaming, to where Alex is weakest, even after weeks of physio.

She reaches up, smashes her fist into the scar she put there in the first place; Alex cries out, falling heavy to the floor, just beside Serena’s head. 

She scrambles away, barely makes it a meter before Alex’s weight presses her into the floor. Covers her face as they tussle, just registering the clanking of chains, of stone grating against stone, as she tries to get a knee of distance between them. 

Then something cracks, sicking and solid. A feral howl follows, reverberating around the room to tear Serena’s stomach through the floor.

She throws Alex off her and rolls to her stomach. Sees Bernie standing over them, gripping her arm and gritting her teeth.

‘This is what is what I was afraid of,’ she moans, looking at her broken wrist; the chain still hanging off her arm, stone attached to the end laying, unanchored, on the floor. 

She wraps the metal around her good hand. Swings it through the distance between them. 

Alex dives face first to the ground. 

‘Get up,’ Bernie urges, gathering the chain around her elbow to stop it dragging behind her, curling her hand into her side.

Serena gapes. Alex groans.

‘Get up!’ she repeats, rushing forward and hauling Serena to her feet.

Alex stirs beside them, writhing upright, as they lurch towards the stairs.

Bernie takes point, Serena bringing up the rear. She looks over her shoulder, halfway up the staircase; there’s Alex, only a few stairs behind, her cheek bloody and bruised, her lip bleeding. 

Fingertips catch on her ankles and Serena screams. She kicks out and down, her heel making contact.

Another crunch echoes around the room.

Alex tumbles down the stairs. 

Thud. 

After thud.

After thud. 

Neither of them look back. Slam the door behind them, no time to lock it.

They move, sprinting through the kitchen, the dining room, into the living room. 

There’s three doorways. They need to keep moving.

There’s footsteps behind them, or maybe it’s her heartbeat pulsing in her ears: Serena can’t tell.

There’s three exits. She doesn’t know which way to go.

‘Come on,’ Bernie urges, pulling them through the one on the left.

And there it is.

Their way to freedom.

The front door, at the end of the hall.

*

It’s been four days since Bernie’s cast came off, six since their last therapy session. Thirty-two since the military finally reversed their declaration rendering one Berenice Wolfe deceased, still struggling with how one of their own could trick the chain of command into thinking a superior officer was dead. 

Forty-three since they were released from police custody and Bernie finally, _finally_ , found her way back where she belongs.

And Serena’s happy they’re home. To have the house full to the brim with their respective broods and combined friends, and not a single ex-husband in sight. Bernie saw to that, the first time Marcus dared show his face.

Serena’s overjoyed to have Bernie by her side. Reassuring them all that she is, indeed, very much alive. 

But she’d been preparing to leave, before all this happened. And now that she’s back, it’s starting to feel a little cramped. 

Serena excuses herself, rushes away to the kitchen, hides in another room of a house that doesn’t feel like home anymore. 

A few minutes later, Bernie follows. 

‘You alright?’ 

She nods curtly, attempts a reassuring smile, to put Bernie at ease. She should be the one asking, shouldn’t she?

Serena hasn’t quite got a handle on the rules yet. How to find her feet in this new life. Each day a new challenge, unfamiliar and daunting. 

It’s easier with Bernie beside her, but that comes with its own set of problems.

The one rule she has learnt: better to bring things into the light, instead of locking them away. 

She puts her glass down, rolls her shoulders back, squares her courage.

‘Bernie, I’ve been thinking.’

‘That’s never good,’ Bernie quips, light in her eyes, leaning against the bench. On anyone else, it would look relaxed, calm, safe as houses. With anyone else, they might even be fooled.

Serena laughs, to put them both at ease. She watches Bernie’s posture slouch: back unclenching, jaw relaxing, shoulders dropping. 

She knows it won’t last long. Better to rip the bandaid off. 

‘No, really,’ she says gently, approaching slowly, reaching out to rest a hand on Bernie’s forearm, grounding for them both. ‘About us. Because I know you’re happy enough here, but what if…’ she trails off, chewing on her words. ‘I want to start over, somewhere fresh, where there’s no ghosts.’

Bernie steps back, puts miles between them. Serena’s arm falls, unless, to her side. 

‘You want to leave.’

Serena nods. Bernie looks away. 

The bustle in the living room fills the silence, as Serena waits patiently, the minutes stretching as she gives Bernie space, like she’s supposed to.

Wishes she hadn’t when Bernie finally looks up.

‘But you promised,’ she chokes, tears in her eyes. ‘You said you wouldn’t leave me.’

‘No, no, darling,’ she soothes, rushing forward, hands on Bernie’s face. ‘I mean what if _we_ went somewhere else. Somewhere quiet. We can get a place that’s big enough for both of us, where we can find our feet again and do things properly.’ She swipes her thumb over a stray tear. ‘I want to get things right, this time. And I’m not sure here is the best place for us anymore.’

There’s a shout from the living room. They both jump.

‘You might have a point,’ Bernie says carefully. ‘I want that too. With you. To get things right.’ Her eyes soften as she reaches out, touches the back of Serena’s hand, tangles their fingers together. ‘I want that so much.’

‘I know, dear. I think it would be good, to start over somewhere. But only if it’s what we both decide,’ Serena reminds her, squeezing her hand lightly. ‘If you’re truly happy here then we’ll stay, of course we’ll stay. But will you think about it, please?’

Bernie smiles, joy spreading across her face. ‘Of course I will.’

*

It’s been twenty-seven days since they started roaming the countryside in search of a cottage snug enough for the two of them.Twenty-two since they sat the kids down and explained, twenty-one since they narrowed down the list with the help of, mainly, Charlotte’s watchful eye. 

It’s been eighteen days since a bundle of fur came to greet them at the gate, nudging against Bernie’s ankle and mewling gently as Serena gathered her up to hug against her chest, and they both knew. 

This is where they’re meant to be. 

They have the essentials unpacked, fresh sheets on the bed, two brushes and a tube of paste by the sink. Drying towels on the rack, socks mixed together in the hamper. 

The rest will arrive tomorrow, along with the brood, keen to see them settled, for everyone’s peace of mind. 

For now, they lay on a rug outside, full bellies and tired limbs. Shoulders brushing as they look up at the setting sun, stars beginning to shine against the purples and blues.

A breeze rustles through the nearby oak. An owl hoots in the dark

A shiver runs up Bernie’s arm, tickling at Serena’s skin.

‘Time to go in?’ she asks, voice soft in the dim night air.

Bernie grunts. Gets to her feet, unfurling to her full height.

‘Up you pop,’ she encourages, wiggling her outstretched hand.

Serena drinks in the silhouette of long limbs against the moon. Reaches back, lets herself be hauled up, uses the momentum to fall forward, into Bernie. 

Steals a kiss, just because she can. 

Draws back, lips tingling, and tangles their fingers together. 

They fall into step as they wander up the garden path, grasp tight as they walk hand and hand over the threshold.

Holding firm, on the first night of the rest of their lives. 


End file.
